[Tavern Thread] The Dunn Wright Inn

This is the official Living Pathfinder Tavern Thread, for the Social Group "Living Pathfinder". This is the RP area while we get the actual setting going, so interactions aplenty if you please. OOC comments in Sblocks, and questions or anything else should be posted to the social group.

All posters should go joing the Living Pathfinder Social Group. Please join us there, make up a character according to the rules, and help us form the setting so everyone can enjoy it. There is where we'll take adventure proposals, setting proposals, and we'll list approved characters as well. (stay tuned)

We are currently looking for GMs to propose and run adventures, so post on the board if you've got an adventure to run, and we'll direct you where to go to show us the actual adventure. Same thing with characters.

Otherwise, let's get underway with some RP!

Communal NPCs

If you wish to RP in the tavern and your characters are out adventuring, you may do so with an NPC. Generally this should be to welcome new characters and provide someone to interact with during slow periods, etc. You may create your own NPC, generally either a patron or a staff member or use one of the communal NPCs provided below.

Marla

Role: Barmaid
Personality: Marla is friendly, but assertive, she does not take rudeness lightly and gives as good as she gets. She is very guarded, and self conscious about her fiendish heritage with a habit of unconsciously pulling her hair up to cover her small horns.
Speech Color: Red unless a PC is currently using it.

Last edited by Living PF Judge; Wednesday, 26th January, 2011 at 04:29 AM.

The Dunn Wright Inn is a large enough building that it has been known to house the entire crews of several ships in the same night. Both the rowdy sailors that make up the crews, and the more expensive tastes of captains and their passengers, are catered to by the Inn with a massive lower house and tavern for the crews, and a more luxurious upper house for more refined tastes. The original intent was to capitalize on large gatherings, with the added bonus of a variety of clientele under the same roof. A collection of private meeting rooms exists, where wealthy and not-so-wealthy could meet for... arrangements. Naturally this involved adventurers.

The Common Room of the Lower House (called that for two reasons) is always abustle with activity, especially now. A water taxi filled with crew from one of the ships had pulled up to the waterside doorway, while other crowds had come in from the cityside doors.

The bar tender tonight was a young woman, technically, but not a lady. She had a leather jerkin on like a caravan guard, with bare arms tattoo'd like a sailor herself. Her hair was shorn close, like a boy, except for some strands that hung down over her forehead. She was human, and seemed nice enough talking to a retired husk of a sailor, and a massive armored giant of a half-orc with his nose in the dregs of a stein.

The Common Room itself has a number of middle-room tables for six, but also massive long tables with benches along the walls. There is a very wide stair case on one side, heading up to the Common Inn Rooms and beyond them to the meeting rooms (especially with wealthier types); to get to the richer areas you'd have to pay hefty sums for a room there, or be invited by someone already there.

Orin walked into the bar. Not hard enough to comment, of course, or to knock his wide-brimmed hat further down over his eyes.

He lifted his hand from out his grey robe and twirled his finger before mumbling something unintelligible through a bushy white beard. He pointed at one of the massive kegs behind the bar, his hand trembling. The bartender stiffly swivelled, took up a stein, moved to the Keg's Bung hole and poured out fermented amber. Orin motioned her over and, as the stein plopped down in front of him, he opened his fingers to release the handful of coppers he owed whilst the bartender pretended to wake from a powerful enchantment. The interaction had all the magic of an uncle finding a coin in a child's ear, maybe less, but Orin chuckled into his stein with insufferable self-contentment.

As others around him sniffed he air, he paused from his drink. That's just me. Spices, components... bat guano. Never leaving home without it again.

Markus, human male

Markus had been staring into his drink for close to an hour, and wondering if he was doing the right thing for the hundreth time.

When the old man in the large hat walked in he came out of his stupor with a shake of his head. It was already decided this was his life now and he was going to make the most of it, no looking back again.

He raised his mug to his lips and then spit out the ale slowly. Warm and flat he had been sitting here awhile.

"Barkeep another!" he bellows fishing for some coins. *sniff sniff*"What's that?" he says out loud.

Upon hearing the old man's reply he smiles and says, "Ah, and I guess to you I smell like raw leather and sharpening oil. Ha Ha! Well met, I am Guards... um. My name is Markus." he says as if hearing it for the first time himself.

Orin, Male Human(?) Wizard

Orin nods, using his best "I'm listening" face, raises his glass to Markus, the Half-orc, and the old sailor (who looks far older than Orin himself, if that's possible; certainly the worse for wear), then drinks.

I try not to smell anyone I don't have to, so your secret's safe with me. I am called Orin, the Wandering Wizard, Old Mage Bones, and the great Sage of Cups... that last one comes with a limerick, but I can't for the life of me remember how it goes. Not for polite company, mind you, my life story; then again, it's why I come to this place. You seem nice enough, what's your excuse?

Orin takes a deep sip of his ale. His eyes dart about the room looking at all the people in it, and wondering where they come from. He tries to get a good sense of who the man speaking to him is: closer look at his clothes, spotting traces of tell tale dirt or dried sea salt to see if he came by land or see; for particular patches of worn cloth on his elbows to show him a scholar, or on his knees or shoulders to show him a labourer; the way he holds his drink, if he's a drinker or a feather weight; in short he is attempting to discern using simple evidence who this man is.

A small figure, you guess might be three feet tall enters the establishment from the landside door. She has her silvery hair is loose about her head. She has a light colored complexion and a steely gaze that looks over those present within the inn. She wears a well tended set of scale armor that shines. She wears a tabard black with silver quarter moon on upon it, trimmed in silver. A simple but silver gleaming quarter moon hangs form a silver chain about her neck She carriers an open faced helm under her left arm. She smiles and will nod in a friendly fashion to anyone who makes eye contact.

The gnome makes her way over to the bar and places her helm upon her pack that she places in front of the stool and bar. She then makes the effort to get into the seat and then moves herself upright and when the bartender is available asks,"Good day to you. A mug of ale and some roast beast with bread and cheese, if you have it, please?"

A big bald man enters. He has the physique of a warrior, but he wears no armor over his tanned skin. His dark green eyes show the devotion of a priest, but he bears no holy symbol. He looks around, uncertain if he should say anything. After deciding not to do it he moves to a corner table, moving with his staff, but clearly not needing it to move. As he sits down, you can see his collection of exotic weapons, the most familiar a kind of longsword, but on an unusual design.

Orlando Furioso 'Fury'

A young man enters the Dunn Wright. Clad in brown leather and bearing a sword on one hip and a sickle on the other he walks with all the compact grace and confidence of duelist. As he walks to the bar his eyes scan the room: he acknowledges the bald foreign man in the corner, dismisses the old fellow with barely a glance, sizes up the human warrior assessing the threat of the man, but his eyes linger longest on the attractive female gnome sitting at the bar. He sits at an open stool next to her and taps the bar with index and middle finger. "Wine."

The water taxi arrives, with a number of new patrons. Among the group is a half-orc. His skin and eyes nearly golden in color, he is striking and uncharacteristically attractive in appearance. Long, well-kept hair hangs obediently behind him. His face bears a couple scars, and his outfit is simple, nearly perfunctory. He carries a large axe on his back. As others file around him, reaching the bar to place their orders, he does not. He merely stands in the middle of the room, staring off into space, seeming somewhat bemused and surprised as to his whereabouts.

Appearance

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